


hand in glove

by revengeavenue



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Concert AU, Fluff, M/M, because i am trash for the smiths, they meet at a smiths show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8742904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revengeavenue/pseuds/revengeavenue
Summary: Ryan would probably never see him again, or so he thought.





	

Brendon wasn't watching where he was going, he was too busy trying to get to the front of the pit so he could see Morrissey up close. He was a guy with priorities, essentially. In his tunnel vision sort of haze, he ended up colliding with another person, and he was going so fast that they fell down. Panicking, he looked down and held out his hand for them.

His eyes locked with a pair of warm ones. The other boy had a smooth, young face; he was probably around Brendon's age. His hair was in his eyes, casting shadows upon his face in the dim light of the crowded venue. He grabbed hold of Brendon's outstretched hand, allowing himself to be pulled back up by the complete stranger. Brendon took note of how warm and soft his hand felt, a fleeting thought that was soon gone and lost in the moment.

"I'm so sorry," Brendon spoke quickly, leaning in so the boy could hear him. "I... I wasn't paying attention."

He smiled at Brendon, letting go of his hand. "Distracted by Morrissey, I'm guessing?"

"Something like that," Brendon laughed, barely audible over the sound of The Smiths playing. "I'm Brendon."

"Ryan," he countered, looking into Brendon's eyes. It was too dark to tell what color they were, but for some reason, they captivated him. "I'm here alone... I don't know anyone else who likes The Smiths."

Brendon had to take a step closer to Ryan - some person behind him was trying to push closer to the stage. "Well, now you do. I'm here alone too," Brendon admitted. He was surprised that he found talking to a new person so easy. It felt natural.

Ryan looked at Brendon, and shot him a grin; his teeth reflected tiny beams of light. "Wow." Ryan didn't know what to say, and he couldn't tell why. "Wanna try to get up to the stage?"

"Oh, that would be great," Brendon replied, suddenly feeling the rush of adrenaline in his veins. "That's what I was trying to do before I rudely ran into you like that. Here, hook our arms together so we don't get separated." Brendon held out his arm and watched as Ryan's slender wrist slipped through and interlocked with his own.

Ryan blushed at the gesture, "I forgive you, now let's get up there!"

-

They pushed their way through the crowd of people and made their way to the front. Brendon couldn't wipe the smile off his face the entire time, because of a couple reasons. Ryan was one of those reasons, and Brendon definitely did not expect to meet someone as cool as him at the show when he bought his ticket. Good things didn't just happen to him like that.

So when they walked out of the venue when the show was over, arms still locked together and smiles still plastered on their faces: Brendon had a tough time believing that it was really happening. Ryan asked him to go to his car with him - he wanted to give Brendon his number.

They stood outside in the warm night air and talked for a little while. Stars were visible in the sky above the city, and everything felt crisp and clean. As if the entire situation didn't already feel like a dream, Ryan kissed Brendon on the cheek after he wrote his number on his arm with a pen he found in his glove compartment.

"Do... do you have to go home?" Brendon asked, not wanting to leave Ryan so soon. An hour wasn't nearly enough time; he needed more than that.

Ryan shrugged, defeated. "Yeah, it's almost midnight and I promised I'd be home." He reached out to place a hand on Brendon's forearm. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

Ryan leaned forward and kissed Brendon's other cheek. "Sounds great."

-

When Brendon got home, he soon found that it was extremely difficult for him to fall asleep; he just wasn't tired after all the excitement. He wrote Ryan's number on a piece of paper as soon as he got home, fearing that the numbers would somehow up and leave his arm by morning.

He got a shower, and while the hot water hit his back repetitively, he replayed the night in his head. Most of it was blurry; Brendon hoped it would seem more clear with a glass of water and some sleep. It was two thirty in the morning when he finally situated himself in his cold bed, and he was frustrated to realize that he was wide awake.

He sipped on his glass of water, and Ryan's face wouldn't leave his mind. When he shut his eyes, all he saw behind his eyelids was his smiling face as they sang along to their favorite Smiths songs. Maybe it was only a dream, after all.

Setting the empty glass down on his bedside table, he sunk into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Through the open window, the sounds of the night slipped in: subtle and calming, yet not enough to ease him into a sound sleep. His mind was too busy thinking a million miles a minute. Brendon wondered if Ryan was having the same problem.

Perhaps it was simply luck, but Brendon was asleep by a few minutes past three. He was reluctant to end the day, because it seemed to be more important than most days he experienced.

While Brendon slept for the last few hours until the sun would rise again, Ryan was awake: hand rapidly moving across pages of his journal. He wanted to remember everything from that night, because he knew very well that it wasn't just another show, and Brendon wasn't just another guy.

-

"Bren, do you remember the night we met?" Ryan asked, flipping through the pages of his diary from over ten years ago. He found it while they were packing their things up to move. They were saying farewell to their little apartment, and moving into a house just outside the city.

Brendon turned around, box in hand. "How could I forget?" He walked towards Ryan and placed the box down beside the one he was packing full of sentimental things.

"Did I ever show you this thing?" Ryan gestured to the black leather journal in his hand. He thrusted it into Brendon's hands. "I used to write in that a lot before we met."

Brendon flipped between the ink stained pages, each page revealing intricately worded poetry and different things that Ryan thought about a lot. "No, I don't think you ever did."

Ryan smiled, "flip to the last few pages. If I remember correctly, it's something I wrote on the night we met."

He walked over to their sofa and sat down, turning the pages quickly until he found exactly what Ryan was talking about.

_Tonight, I had everything. It was all a surprise; I did not expect to meet someone like you, especially in the way that I did. The lights were dim, so everyone else looked faceless in the crowd. I don't remember much before you crashed into me. You quite literally did so, and I'm so happy that you did. We talked, and your eyes wouldn't leave mine. I felt a connection forming as The Smiths played the soundtrack to our first encounter. I really do hope it won't be our last. Our arms were hooked together as we made our way through the crowd. You didn't want to lose me, and I didn't want to lose you either. As they played 'Hand in Glove', I looked at you and felt myself creating a memory that I knew I would never forget. I will never forget that moment; your face was so beautiful and we were so happy. So even if we never end up speaking to one another again, I hope you remember me and the kisses I planted on your cheeks. They meant more to me than any living thing on earth._

Brendon looked up from the journal and at Ryan. "Holy shit, I remember that," he said, running a hand through his hair.

Ryan sat down next to him and put his head on his shoulder. "I honestly thought I would never see you again after that night."

"I should have called you that night. I was too afraid that I would get caught on the phone at two in the morning," Brendon confessed. Talking about that night brought back so many memories that he otherwise would have never remembered again.

"Look where we are now, though. We made it." Ryan picked his head off Brendon's shoulder, and Brendon turned his head to look at him.

"Yeah... we did."

And as a smile crept onto Brendon's face, he leaned in and kissed Ryan for probably the thousandth time. The nostalgia was evident in the kiss, and it felt like time was of no concern when their lips were pressed together. Despite all the doubt present on that warm night, they made it.


End file.
